Escape: A Tale of Marion
by M. Sullivan
Summary: Eighteen year old Marion, or Mara, has lived her life alone. She has finally tumbled right into the arms er, midst of Ye Outlawe Robin, young leader of the land's Rebels. Discontinued
1. Prologue

A full moon beamed through an arrow slit in a small tower room, serving as the chamber's only sliver of light. The room seemed to be made entirely of worn, grey stone, without any sort of decoration on the floor or wall. It's size could have been measured in large steps: Four it's berth, and five it's length. Clothing that looked more like rags lay strewn across the stone floor. An old, wooden four-poster bed with a single moth-eaten coverlet served as the tower's only furniture, save for a clay pot under the window. And on top of the bed, sitting cross-legged with a determined look upon her face, was a girl clutching a bulging knapsack to her chest as if trying to protect it from the shadows lurking in the room. She seemed to be listening.

It was difficult to discern her features in the scant illumination, but those large eyes, resolute and unfaltering in their examination of the bed, appeared to emit a light of their own, and they seemed to be the exact same shade of gray as the stone that surrounded them. Underneath them sat a long, straight nose, and under that, a pair of thin lips that, in better lighting, may have been watermelon-coloured. Very dark brown hair was tucked into a broad-brimmed hat that had seen better days. The girl's clothing was simple; it consisted of an undyed linen shirt and brown woolen tunic, with soft brown breeches and worn leather boots. Her fingers were long and slightly spidery, with nails gnawed down to the quick.

"Alright," the girl sighed after a moment, "time to get going, I think. The watch should be change-"

A bell rang clear through the darkness, just once, and was immediately followed by the shouted orders of many men. The girl leapt off the bed, almost losing her hat in the process, but she held it on with one hand as the other held the knapsack. Crossing the room in three quick strides, she stopped at an old wooden door, the tower's only exit. She crouched towards the knob, listening through the key hole.

A second later, a metallic click came from the door's handle; a voice whispered, "Milady Mara..." and the door opened forward to reveal a frightened-looking maid in a stained woolen dress, holding a candle in the hand that wasn't holding the door open. Greasy yellow strands fought to escape a loose bun, and her whole body seemed to be shaking. "Time to go!" she hissed.

Quickly, the girl called Mara went through the doorway, throwing her knapsack onto her back and hugging the maid for shortest of moments. "Thanks so much, Leti. I shan't forget you for this." And the two exchanged brief smiles before Mara dashed down the twisting stone stairs that would lead to the bottom of the keep, and her ticket to freedom.

Mara reached the bottom steps and paused for a moment, both to catch her breath and to make sure that no one was around. Then she shot through the doorway to the right into the cool night air, the frost-covered grass crunching under her feet, trying to stay as close to the wall as she could. It was only ten feet from here to the stable yard, if she could just make it without being seen...

After the longest three seconds ever recorded, Mara reached the open-air stables, and breathed a sigh of relief. Just one more part to the plan, and she would be free.

A horse nickered next to her, a ragged grey mare. It seemed restless, and Mara went to her, hugging the nose that was shoved into her chest.

"Not tonight, Kliar. I need to really make 'im sting, yeh know?" With a kiss on the nose, Mara went to a stall three down from Kliar, smiling as the horses neighed at the intruder. Coming upon a glittering black stallion already saddled, Mara grinned to see that a saddlebag and blanket lay in the rushes near the gate of the horse's stall. She was to have help, then.

With a creak that made her wince, Mara opened up the stall and led the stallion out by his bridle, and secured the saddlebag, knapsack, and blanket to the back of the saddle. She mounted the horse swiftly, emitting a slight grunt of discomfort as bottom met horseback. He seemed to take this as a sign to begin moving, and so he began to walk out of the stable and down the cobbled road.

The castle loomed behind them, a great, menacing thing with pointy-roofed towers and gargoyles. No light came from any of the three dozen windows, and neither could any sound be heard. Unlike other, larger holdings, this particular stronghold was but a castle-keep, and four small guard stations inside a tall stone wall about 15 feet high. A path led from the simple steps to the main building to the gate wall. The gate was a portcullis made of extremely heavy iron that took at least five minutes for three men to raise. Now it was up, letting in the civilian guardsmen that kept watch over the small fortress. The black blurs trickled in, heading for the guard stations at each corner of the wall, some joking with two or three other blurs, others solemnly stalking towards their positions. Mara whispered a silent prayer, and checked too make sure that her hat was securely in place before kneeing her horse into a trot.


	2. Chapter One, Part One: Escape

Of course we got caught. I should have realized it and planned accordingly the moment I saw the saddlebags by Denj's stall. I should have double checked the road before I road out, should have moved faster, made less noise and moved slower. But I didn't, so now I had to pay for it.

The night was brisk, as it tends to be in the weeks leading up to spring. The road I'd chosen went right from the stable yard to the gate; maybe the distance of one hundred feet. On either side of the path, the yard was empty from wall-to-wall, to allow my father's soldiers room to practice walking in boxes. Of course this would give an attacking army the perfect ground to cross the wall and cut down said soldiers, but my father didn't seem to think an army would attempt to storm the keep of Lord Dersh of Evryingtham. For the past twenty years, he's been right.

But back to the current situation. The moment the guards yelled "Thief" I dug my heels into Denj's sides, praying that he'd be able to move at top speed after a day in a four foot stall. We sped straight at the two unfortunate men. I prayed they'd be frightened enough of the 300 pound sack of meat and bone heading at them they'd jump aside rather than go for the reins.

Denj's hooves smacked against the cobbled street, and the wind made my eyes water. I began to envision myself shooting pass the witless buffoons, laughing over my shoulder as I swept pass startled and sleep night watchman into Nometalle Forest, and into my new life as a free girl.

Of course this was not to be.

We, Denj and I, were perhaps a hundred feet from that glorious freedom when a knat found its way into my left eyeball, causing me to yelp and clutch my face with both hands. The well-trained horse stopped, of course, enabling one of the guards to grab for the poor horse's bridle as its rider mumbled curses at herself and at knats. The other guard, a strapping black haired young man of perhaps twenty-five years, took me by the elbow as I dismounted. One hand held my hat in place as I tried to fight a grin.

Once firmly on the ground, I looked up into the man's clear grey eyes, and saw exasperation and disappointment there, with only a twinkle of his usual amusement. Those eyes bore into mine before I could no longer help but smile. I turned and began unfastening the two bags from the back of Denj's saddle.

"Mara," I heard behind me, "This is... what, the second time this month?" He sighed.

My task completed, I slung the knapsack over my shoulder, and began to tie the saddle bag's strap across my chest onto my other shoulder. I turned to face the man.

"Oh, you know me, Jorjia," I crooned, "I won't be happy until you men have managed to foil every possible attempt to flee this place. I'm only trying to help, you know, " I reached behind me and slid the blanket out of it's straps, still facing him. "Think of it as exercise."

He growled, deep in his throat, a sure sign that I was beginning to anger him. The time was right, then.

Gently, I patted him on the cheek with my free hand, and took careful steps towards the gate. With a last smile, and before he knew what I was doing, I took off, top speed, for the gate. I'd timed it perfectly, actually; I was surprised. The portcullis was just about to be lowered as the straggling civilian guards made their way in for their watch. That meant I'd be granted a solid five minutes to gain distance before the men could raise it again.

I crossed the threshold of the gate amid shouts and swears, just in time to hear the portcullis slam behind me. I smiled inwardly. _Freedom_, at last. And it had been so easy, too.

I took off down the road, hoping to make it into the woods within my five-minute time limit. If I could make it into the trees I could parallel the path until I reached... whatever other village my father's lands held. It wasn't until then that I realize I had absolutely no idea where to go from here, who it was safe to speak to. There was a stitch in my side, and my lungs felt frozen.

_Right,_ I thought to myself, _Time to take inventory of what I do have._ I glanced behind me and blinked. No one was following me. The shouts had faded; no dogs barked. I didn't even hear the groan of metal. Why wasn't anyone coming after me?

Suspicious, but nonetheless grateful for this blessing, I stopped running. Immediately I regretted this discussion as my lungs and legs started to burn, and the stitch enveloped my entire abdomen. Gasping, I collapsed, focusing on breathing and the task at hand. I shuffled through my backpack.

Two weeks worth of dried meat and stale bread, a flask of water and a flask of milk, a change of clothes, and three gold coins; enough money to fund a baron's daughter in a poor marriage. Somehow I would need to get smaller coins, or I'd be thought a thief. No need for any cloths, of course: I'd had the midwife see to that weeks ago. Freakishly painful, but bleeding was too much of a burden for the life of an exile. My hat was still on my head, by some fluke of wind, and I was cold.

I eyed the dirt around me, squinting in the scant light. Nothing but my packs. I must have dropped it, I decided.

Alright, no worries. I've been cold before.

I stuffed everything back into its proper pack and stood, dusting myself off. I was maybe two hundred feet from the keep. Again, I wondered why no one was coming after me.

Something to ponder as I walked, I supposed. And I set out.


	3. Chapter One, Part Two: Capture

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who submitted a review for the first two parts! It makes me feel all special to know that my work is being read! Thanks for reading, and be sure to keep sending reviews. Enjoy this next section :)

_i When I was eleven, my brother died. Red Fever had reached our home, and it took him overnight. Dozens of souls went with him, but my father didn't care. His son, his precious baby boy, was gone. Never mind that he still had a wife and daughter depending on him, never mind how much they loved him. My father believed life to have lost its meaning, and so retreated to the bottle. We had been such a close happy family... if it hadn't been for that sickness..._

A few years later, my mother died. I don't remember how. Just that one day, I woke up, and she wasn't there beside me to help me greet the day. And so I matured alone, doing what I wished. I roamed and grew difficult. I was fifteen when my father seemed to remember me again.

I had been out in the stables, tending to some ponies, when I this enormous shadow fell across. Fat, greasy, and enraged, my Father grabbed me by the hair and carried me up to a tower, where he had be locked in. I left rarely, and spoke to almost no one. Periodically I'd be remembered, and called down to supper. Father and I sat at opposite ends at the banquet table that had once tumbled with merry residents, drinking and toasting and- 

My face and stomache had decided, in my revelry, to become aquainted with the grassy forest floor. Suddenly I was sprawled on the ground, sputtering, as twigs snapped and leaves rustled all around me. Then I heard cackling.

"Lookee 'ere, my lads! A fine piece o' travelin' filth, fresh from Lord Evrytham's keep! Wha're you, son, a run'o'way 'prenteese?"

I was lifted by the back of my tunic to my feet by a strong arm. Three grizzled men stood before me, dressed in dirty britches and shirts, grinning at me like demons. Oh hell...

My hand went up automatically to brush loose hair behind my ear; an old nervous habit. I cleared my throught and started to speak, but froze. The blasted hat that had managed to stay on my head whilst I sprinted through the underbrush, had slid off, revealing my masses of curling brown hair that I'd refused to cut off (Why did I not do that, anyway?). Their eyes widened as they realized I was no runaway " 'prentees", but instead a woman, alone, in a dark forest... alone.

"Um, gentlemen," I started, "you see, I was uh... taking a walk, you see, and I uh, got lost. Yes, that's it. Which way is it to the nearest town?" I dusted myself off, trying to appear calm as the brigands surveyed me closely.

"Eeeeey, you's be lookin' familiar." said the one that looked like a giant rock with eyes. "Be ye of the keep, yes?"

"No," I said carefully. Maybe he was stupid! "No, I'm just a long-haired fairy lad, minding my own business-"

"I be knowin' those locks!" Cried one that looked like a brown fish with legs, "She be teh Mara-chil', Lord Evvrthing's daughter! I have not seeing you in years, gal! I oozed ta work in teh stables, back in the when!"

I blinked, growing desperate. "Mara? Who's Mara? I've never heard that name before! You must be mistaken, um sir? - I'm not Mara!" I started to back, but ran into Rock-With-Eyes.

"Bes' nat be taken chancez, ye know! 'Sides, Robbie wudna mind a fine piece of white ars-"

Very bad smell. Cloth over my nose and mouth. Oh, lordy, _ dirty cloth over my nose and mouth! Where the hell has that be-_


	4. Chapter Two, Part One: First Impressions

A/N - Thank enchantedsleeper for reminding me that this story still existed XD I've been working on other projects lately, and enjoying watching BBC's Robin Hood and making fanvids and fics for it, but I just got inspiration for this next part. Sorry for the atrocious delay, and please enjoy :D

The feeling of cold, clean linen over a hard surface. The smell of smoke and filth. The taste of mud. The sound of many conversations, one of them louder than the others.

"What in God's name do you think you're doing?" Shouted a male voice in perfect Osea, the dialect and accent of those of the noble class. "Why is there an unconscious girl in my tent?"

"Weel, yah see, Robin, we-ah, we's bez finins her back in the teh frest, and we's be thinkin' you woulna mind-" I think it was Brown Fish Man.

" i Mind/i I don't know what you folks do in Yekrut, but here, when we find young women alone in the forest, we either ignore them or try to ravish them, we do not carry knock them unconscious and carry them to people's tents!" yelled the Oseacian man that I decided was on my side, sort of. "Now what did you say her name was?"

A pause. A mumble.

"SHE'S WHO?!"

I heard the sound of fabric snapping, and opened my eyes to find myself in a small tent about four feet across, lit by a weak rising sun. To my left was a pile of rags and a blanket, to my left a pair of boots, a set of folded clothes, and more rags. I was lying on top of a flat wooden board on the ground, covered by a linen sheet that felt like it had been attached to a ship in another life. Directly across from me was the tent's opening, and a young man's face was peering in at me.

He was definitely a noble, for his eyes were clear and intelligent; most peasants his age showed signs of having suffered the White Fever that swept through the country years ago that had dimmed the vision of its survivors. From what I could see, his eyes were a strong blue over a long nose and a full, bow-shaped mouth. His chin was dusted with a dark beard, and his straight dark hair seemed to be pulled back. He was quite handsome, and if he would get that horrified expression out his eyes, he would look better.

I pulled my arm out from under the blanket, sat up, and waggled my fingers at him. He snapped his head back outside.

"Does she have any idea who we are?" I heard him say. More mumbling. I rested my arms on my knees and waited whilst they mumbled out the rest of their conversation.

About five minutes later I was re-re-examining my nails when the tent flap snapped again, and the man stepped inside, his horror replaced with a pained smile. He was tall and thin, with a slight build that suggested agility. His shirt was thin and off-white, breeches brown and patched, and a thick leather belt went across his chest. At his waste hung an empty sword scabbard two daggers, and a money pouch.

He crossed his arms before speaking. "You know who we are, I presume?"

I blinked twice, then nodded. Best to lie in this situation.

He stared at me for a moment and spoke again, "You will be returned to the keep as soon as you've recovered enough to travel, my lady. Unfortunately you will have to travel blindfolded, but I promise that you will reach home safely." The gallant gentleman, he gave a little half-bow.

"Do you know who I am?" I asked, looking up at him.

He bowed again. "Of course, my lady, and I regret that you were treated so-"

"Are you aware that this is the first time I've ever actually managed to get out of that hellhole?" I interrupted indignantly, "And you're telling me all that work and careful planning is going to go to waste? Um, no, sorry, if it's alright with you, I'll get out of here and just i not /i got back to Evrytham, mmkay?"

He looked shocked. "So you're saying tha-"

"How far away are we that you don't know that Lady Mara of Evrytham has tried to escape her tower almost thirty times in the past two years alone?" I looked up at him incredulously, for I'd thought I'd become quite famous.

He uncrossed his arms and placed them on his hips, looking down at me almost as if I were a much-wanted birthday gift. "Well in that case, my lady Mara, you're welcome to join us here."

Leaning back on my arms, I asked, "And who is 'us', exactly? I may have fibbed a little in that degree."

His smile spread across his face, and his eyes were alight with mischief. "We are the group of outlaws and their families living in the woods outside Evrytham and its village, plotting the death of its Lord and the King he serves."

I nodded, remembering stories of raided caravans, slaughtered children, and starving families. These men had cost the town hundreds of gold coins, leaving many homeless. I'd heard them referred to in terrified voices by the castle's servants. Apparently their leader was a young savage lord that had been a hero in the wars against Natsikap and Qari. Some said he had three heads.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume you're...?" said I.

"Lord Robin of Dangelo, earl of Lostep, yes." He grinned wolfishly. "And you're probably going to be held hostage."

I sighed. "Fantastic."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N

This is just to let everyone know that, after TWO MONTHS of fighting writer's blck (I've tried every weekend, folks, I really have) that I've decided to combine the plot of Escape with my other Robin Hood FanFic, tentatively titled Fletcher, which should be on FanFiction now.

I'm sorry for those of you that really wanted to see this plot played out, but rest assured most of the elements that were to be included in this story will be in Fletcher.

And the best part about Fletcher is that I know how it's going to end, and I have a vage idea of how I'm going to get there.

So again, my apologies, but rest assured, if you liked Mara, you'll like Rebeccer ;)


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